Darkest Before the Dawn
by lurkingwhump
Summary: Continuing directly after the cabin explosion in 4x22 as Jane frantically searches for any signs of Kurt and the team. Did they make it out in time?
1. Chapter 1

OK, so this fic has been a long time coming. I started writing this months ago, soon after the S4 finale and it has been slooowww. Major writers block, and life obstacles along the way. Thank you my lovely beta as always, for cheering me on and suggesting corrections. Also thanks to Indelible Evidence and eblonde for listening to me and cheering me on.

Please leave a note and let me know what you think. You'd make my day.

* * *

**Darkest Before the Dawn**

Jane stared at the remains of the cabin dumbfounded, like she was frozen in place. Slowly, despair and terror surfaced as reality hit her.

_The team. Kurt. Oh no. Please, God, no._

She took off at a run, heading for the pile of rubble that moments earlier had been their cabin. Her breath hitched, a pained wail escaped her as she started to dig through the rubble, desperately trying to find anything that might tell her that Kurt and the others were alive.

She gasped and coughed, frantically trying to move the burning pieces of wood and the debris, trying to find any sign of Kurt and the rest of the team. _No, this isn't happening. Not again. _Breath caught in her throat, the weight of the situation nearly crushing her. An anguished scream broke from her lips, tears brimming her eyes, clouding her vision. "Kurt!" She heaved a piece of metal away, hissing as a sharp angle cut through her glove and into her skin. "Patterson!"

_There's nothing here... there's no way they can still be alive. _"Reade! Kurt!"

She didn't know how long she had been digging when she dropped to her knees and buried her head in her hands. Her breathing hitched, and she whimpered as the tears came. _They're gone._

In her grief, for a moment she thought that she was hallucinating when she heard Patterson's voice calling for her.

"Jane!"

Jane whipped around, seeing a dusty and battered Patterson climb out of the ground a couple of hundred feet away. She got up and took off at a sprint. "Patterson!"

Coughing, an almost unrecognizable Patterson climbed out of a hatch.

Kneeling by her friend, Jane stared at her in disbelief and glanced down, seeing Reade climbing out behind her. She could feel a small smile of relief on her lips. "How did you..?"

"We got a call, telling us to get in the tunnel, and –"

"Where's Kurt? "

"He's still in the tunnel, Tasha is trying to help him." Patterson's eyes had an anxious look. "Jane, he's injured."

Jane's momentary elation at her friends' survival turned into worry, as the lead-weight of fear settled into the pit of her stomach. "Will you be okay here, if I go to him?"

Patterson nodded. "Do you have your phone? We need to get in touch with Ice Cream, we're going to need some help."

Jane fumbled through her jacket pockets, digging out her phone and passing it to her friend, before she went on to descend into the darkness of the tunnel. She blinked for a moment, getting used to the low light. She smelled the musty air, mixed with a faint smell of something she couldn't place lingering from the explosion.

The tunnel was narrow, maybe two feet wide and four feet high. It had a few dull bulbs lining the wall, so it wasn't shrouded in complete darkness. Up ahead, Jane saw a faint cloud of dust lingering in the air, outlining a kneeling figure on the ground behind what seemed like a wooden beam.

Getting closer, she coughed as the air grew thicker with dust. "Tasha! Kurt!"

"Jane, over here!" Came Tasha's relieved reply, as she moved closer to Jane, their eyes meeting as she nodded towards Kurt.

"Kurt!" His name escaped her lips almost like a sob and she scrambled over the fallen beam as Tasha scooted back to let her through and headed for the hatch.

Jane reached for his face with trembling hands, tracing her fingers over his cheeks as she pressed her face into his neck, inhaling his scent. "Oh God, I thought I'd lost you," she murmured breathlessly into him and pressed a kiss to his neck.

His arm wrapped around her loosely. "Jane…" Her name came out as a pained exhale and he descended into a coughing fit which morphed into a long, low groan of pain.

"I'm here." She drew back slightly, trying to get a look at his injuries but the dust and the darkness of the tunnel made it impossible to see anything in detail.

Patterson had warned her that Kurt was the last one into the tunnel, so he had taken the brunt of the blast. Just because she couldn't see, didn't mean he was uninjured. She could hear his labored breathing; she knew he was hurting.

She stroked his face. "Where does it hurt?"

His reply came haltingly, reinforcing Jane's fear that he was badly hurt.

"My chest and side," he ground out, and screamed in pain as he tried to move. "And…my knee. I think…I think it's broken.

Jane gingerly placed her hand to the knee, causing him to yelp in pain at the touch. "Sorry." She carefully felt around his knee. "It may be dislocated." She touched his cheek again. "We've got help coming and we'll get you out, okay?"

Kurt closed his eyes, nodding shakily.

* * *

It had taken them two hours and a half a dozen people before they had been able to extricate Kurt from the tunnel. Ice Cream had agreed to bring a medic with him, along with a few "associates" as he called them, and to arrange a new safehouse.

The medic had examined all of the team who had been caught in the explosion, and the others had gotten off lightly, with the exception of Kurt. Patterson and Tasha had some cuts and bruises, along with a nasty bump for Tasha as she had been knocked into the tunnel's support beams from the force of the blast. Reade had a deep gash on his arm from somewhere, some cuts on his forehead and probably a couple of broken ribs that would heal in time on their own.

As suspected, Kurt had borne the worst of it. The medic had been concerned that Kurt might have spinal injuries, but fortunately things weren't quite that serious. He likely had a couple of broken ribs, and Jane was right, his knee had been dislocated. But the worst were the burns he had sustained. His left side and arm had some nasty-looking burns. The medic had told them the injuries would be better treated in a hospital because of the infection risk, but begrudgingly agreed to help them get settled in the safehouse and re-set Kurt's knee.

They entered the new safehouse, the medic and another man carrying Kurt on a collapsible military stretcher, and Jane a couple of steps behind them.

"Bedroom," the medic said to the other man in Icelandic, nodding toward a small room as they entered.

Jane noted this cabin was larger than the previous one. There was a small living room with an old worn out couch and a couple of chairs, and a small sleeping loft above it. A kitchenette flanked the door to the cabin. A bathroom next to that, and in the far corner was the single bedroom. Turning her attention from the layout back to Kurt, she followed the trio into the room.

Kurt cried out as the men helped him onto the bed. The other man collapsed the stretcher and left, leaving the medic and Jane in the room with Kurt. Luckily, the medic spoke English well, so Jane did not have to interpret what he said. She wasn't sure if she was in the right mindset to do that, concern for Kurt occupying her thoughts.

Cutting Kurt's shirt open with a pair of trauma shears, the medic looked first at Jane and then at Kurt. "What I will do is going to hurt you. I have to take your shirt off to see the burns and treat them. Then we set your knee. Are you sure you don't want stronger painkiller?"

They had given Kurt some strong ibuprofen, but Jane could see he was still in quite a lot of pain.

"No." He simply replied, reaching for Jane's hand with his good arm. She took his hand, squeezing it as she sat on the side of the bed.

"Kurt…"

"No, Jane." He gave her a pained, if determined look. "What if we have to move again? What if –." His answer was cut off by his own scream, as the medic removed the shirt.

He squeezed her hand, hard. Jane bit her lip to suppress a gasp when she saw the burns on his shoulder and side. Some were red-raw first-degree burns, but the worst ones were starting to blister. _Second- degree burns._

The medic dug into his backpack "I'm sorry. I need to clean the burns and dress them."

"Okay,." Kurt grunted, turning his head away and staring at the ceiling. He was panting, trying to keep himself from screaming as the medic worked.

Jane leaned in close to Kurt, speaking to him in a tender tone. "Hey, look at me."

The look in his eyes would haunt Jane. He tried to stay quiet and keep it together, but his eyes told her he was in agony.

She caressed his knuckles, shushing him. "It's okay."

He flinched as the medic touched a particularly wounded area in his side, and howled in pain, no longer able to keep quiet.

Jane's heart shattered. Kurt had always been her rock: from the moment they met, through Shepherd's twisted mind games, to Roman's death and ZIP. But now he was trapped in nightmare and there was hardly anything she could do.

She stroked his cheek, hoping to soothe him. "It's almost done," she reassured him, hoping that he didn't notice the catch in her voice.

A few minutes later, the man nodded at Jane, and stood up.

* * *

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment as the medic got to his feet. He felt Jane's soft touch on his cheek, and leaned into it. It was comforting, gentle. Focusing on her touch helped take his mind off the pulsing pain invading his body. Despite the painkillers, it was as if every nerve ending in his body was telegraphing that something was very, very wrong. He winced quietly as a lightning sharp sensation hit his side.

Jane had noticed his torment. She leaned in, kissing his temple and staying close. He felt her warm breath on his neck as she murmured soothing words to him. "Shhh…I know. I know, Kurt. Won't be much longer."

She sat up, the look in her eyes suffering as they met his. "He still needs to set your knee." She spoke quietly, her tone apologetic.

He watched as the medic cut open the first one leg of his jeans with a pair of trauma shears and then the other. He let out a yelp as the shears skimmed over his swollen knee. The muscles around his knee felt like they were being pulled from the bone.

"Sorry, you will need a new pair of jeans," the man joked with an affable smile. He seemed to know what he was doing as he ran his hands over Kurt's ankle, feeling for a pulse and nodding to himself.

He looked first at Kurt and then at Jane. "This is doctor's job usually. We should take you to –"

Kurt shook his head forcefully, glaring. They couldn't risk it. "No! You need to do it."

Jane looked like she was about to protest, but whatever she had intended to say died on her lips as he looked at her, hoping she could read the love in his eyes as he reached for her hand and held it. "I can't put you in danger."

Turning back, he met the medic's eye. "I trust you."

Despite his words, Kurt swallowed a lump in his throat, choosing to look up at the ceiling again. Jane's thumb caressed the back of his hand, her other hand stroking his hair.

Feeling the medic grasp his leg, his breathing quickened in anticipation of the pain. The medic was explaining what he was going to do, but Kurt couldn't focus on his words.

"Ready? One… two.."

The next thing he knew was his world exploding in agony. His entire body tensed: he saw a bright flash and then he nearly blacked out as he let out a long shriek and cursed. "FUUUUUCK!" His heart pounded and his broken ribs protested as he gasped for breath, fighting through the red mist of misery that consumed him.

But at least he had Jane. She had moved so that he was cradled in her lap, and she held him close, cautious of his injuries. She didn't speak, her touches and eyes saying more than words ever could. He felt her hand caress his stubbled cheek and she pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead.

He noticed the medic was talking to him, but the fog in his brain prevented him from processing the words. "What?" He ground out.

"That is all I can do," the man said, speaking slow, making sure Kurt heard him this time. "You need to keep weight off your leg, at least two weeks. And keep ice on it." He glanced at Jane and then back at Kurt. "Your burns, I will give your wife instructions for treating them."

As if on cue, the burns made their presence known, a sharp throbbing pain tearing his side as he made the mistake of moving on the bed. Kurt sucked in a sharp breath.

Regarding him in worried silence for a couple of seconds, the medic continued: "Do you want some morphine?"

Kurt took a deep breath, shaking his head. He hoped his voice sounded normal as he declined the man's offer. He needed to keep a clear head if they needed to run from this safehouse.

The medic might have been fooled, but Jane wasn't. "Kurt…"

"I'm okay, Jane," he tried to reassure her, grimacing as he turned to look at her.

"Please don't lie to me." She brushed a hand down his arm, her thumb coming to rest on his fist that gripped the sheet. "You're in pain." The pleading, vulnerable look in her eyes tugged at his heart strings. He had managed to hurt her again. He was about to apologize, when she continued. "I know you want be ready to move, and that you hate relying on medication." She swallowed thickly, her voice wavering. "But I hate seeing you in agony even more." Her thumb caressed his knuckles. "You need to heal and rest, and you can't do that if you're in pain."

"I'm not taking morphine, Jane." He told her gently. He'd seen firsthand with his father what it could do, so he'd rather suffer and keep a clear head.

"I could give you fentanyl," the medic suggested. "It will ease the pain for one or two hours and you can rest. Not disorienting."

Jane leaned in close, her nose brushing his as she spoke so low, that only he could hear her. "Please, Kurt."

It was rarely that he said no to her anyway, but her desperation made it even more impossible now. And she was right, he needed some rest. "Okay," he whispered to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

* * *

Jane left the bedroom, following the medic out. Patterson immediately stood up from the chair she was slumped in, and Zapata and Reade turned their attention to Jane, the tension evident on their faces. She knew they had heard his agonized scream.

"How's Weller?" Reade was the first to speak.

Jane glanced away, trying to gather her thoughts. "He's…not so good." She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push away the emotions threatening to overtake her. She took a deep breath and faced her friends.

"His injuries are serious: he's got second-degree burns on his chest and arm, and a couple of broken ribs. The medic pulled his knee back into place…I wish we could take him to a hospital, but…"

"But it's too risky." Zapata finished her thought, giving her a sympathetic look. "What does Weller say?"

"He refused." Jane gave a sad laugh. "I was barely able to talk him into taking painkillers."

Patterson brushed her arm, her voice soft. "Kurt's strong. He'll be okay."

Jane wiped the moisture from the corner of her eye, feeling ashamed she hadn't given any thought to her friends' wellbeing. "Yeah….how are you guys? I was so worried about Kurt that I–"

"We're fine, Jane," Zapata assured her. "A bit banged up, and some sprains, but we'll be okay. You've got enough on your mind, don't worry about us, too."

"Thanks, Tasha," Jane murmured. Her nails dug into her palm as she made a fist. She needed a distraction or her worry over Kurt would consume her mind. She cleared her throat. "Kurt's not in a condition to move for at least a couple of weeks. So…what do we do next?"

"We're internationally wanted, we have to tread carefully. Madeline has control of the FBI," Reade surmised.

"Still, there must be something we can do!"

"We need to start mapping out who's still out there who can help us. Plus, try to find any information on Rich," Patterson stated, already tapping away at her laptop.

"I can use some backchannels to reach out to Keaton, and some other contacts I know I can still rust at the Agency," Tasha offered.

"Nas will help if only we can get hold of her," Patterson added.

"I'm sure there are people in the FBI still sympathetic to us, who could help dig into Madeline and the HCI Global files," Reade continued.

"Afreen!" Patterson exclaimed. "She _knows_ we're innocent, I'm sure she'll help us if I manage to contact her."

"Just be careful." Jane cautioned. "If she's still inside the NYO, we don't want to put her at risk." She rubbed her temples, willing the exhaustion away, trying to think. "I still have some contacts from my K&R days who owe me a couple of favors… we could use them."

"Let us see what we can find first", Tasha said gently. "You focus on Weller right now. We can't have you running yourself into the ground."

Jane was about to protest that she wanted to help, but the words died on her lips. She felt the worry for Kurt gnawing at her at that very moment. SEAL or not, she couldn't override her heart. As long as Kurt was injured, he would be her main concern, whether she wanted to admit it or not. So instead of protesting, she exhaled a long breath and whispered a tired "Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

Alright, here is chapter 2 on the fic. Angst, angst, angst, sorry guys. But it will get better, I promise. One more chapter to go after this one.

* * *

Kurt howled in pain, as Jane peeled away the dressing covering the burns on his shoulder. She had tried to soak them, but they still stuck to his skin. It was their third day in the cabin and the second time she had had to dress them after the medic had left. She hated that she had to add to his agony. "I'm sorry. I have to do this."

He nodded, his entire body rigid, waiting for the next lash of pain. "I know." He inhaled a deep breath, preparing himself. "The sooner we get this done, the better."

Another scream escaped him as Jane removed the last dressing. "That's it, the worst part is done," she reassured him. "Now I'll put new dressings on."

She did her best to hide her anxiety, as she reapplied the dressings. It seemed like the number of blisters on Kurt's chest and in his side had grown since the medic had seen him. Some of large ones were almost two inches in diameter, and that worried her.

Kurt had closed his eyes, his breathing rapid and the distress plain to see.

After gingerly covering the burns again, Jane removed the gloves she was wearing and cleared away the empty dressing packets.

She couldn't bear to watch Kurt suffer alone, desperately wanting to comfort him. She sat down on the bed again, and leaned against the headboard as she carefully pulled him into her arms. Kurt cried out at the movement.

Jane's heart constricted at his torment. He let out a whimpering sound, leaning into her. "I know it hurts, my love. I know," she murmured softly, stroking his hair. She held him in her embrace, but it seemed that even her presence couldn't soothe the pain caused by the burns, his breaths short and strained against her chest. She moved so that she could look into his eyes. "Kurt," she spoke as she caressed his cheek. "Do you want something stronger for the pain?"

His forehead was crunched, agony clear on his face as he looked at her. His eyes were shimmering with pain as he grunted a weak "Yeah" and closed his eyes again.

His subdued reply had made alarm bells go off in Jane's head. Normally, he would try to soldier on through it, arguing that strong painkillers made him feel fuzzy. But now, he didn't even try: the pain must be excruciating for him.

"Okay." Jane kissed him and disentangled herself from their embrace, gently guiding him back onto the pillows. She walked over to the medical kit and pulled out the vial, pushing the syringe's needle through the cap and measuring the dose of morphine the medic had told her.

Kurt let out another long, halting breath as she injected him with the analgesic. He was gripping the comforter so hard with his uninjured arm that his knuckles were white, and she could see a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, soothingly running her hand up and down his good arm. His eyes met hers, the look in them distraught.

"Jane…"

"Shh…it's okay. The drug will help, but you've got to give it a minute, okay?"

Seeing him like this was tearing her apart. He wore an anguished look, perspiration covering his face and chest, his body tense as a coiled spring from the pain of his injuries. It all made him look so vulnerable, and there was so little she could do. She wanted to take him to a hospital, to get his injuries treated properly, but the risk was too great.

She wished she could hold him and take all his pain away.

Still trapped in the throes of agony, Kurt gave a quiet moan.

Jane sat beside him, murmuring sweet nothings to him, running her hand through his hair, hoping to calm him. "Everything's okay."

She saw he was trying to fight the pain: he gripped her hand, and his breathing was shallow as he gritted his teeth against another groan that he barely suppressed.

A few minutes later the morphine thankfully took effect, his eyes glazing over and his look becoming bleary as he relaxed into the bed.

"Don't fight it….Close your eyes," she cajoled, her touches clearly soothing him now.

A couple of minutes later, his breathing deepened as his tired body succumbed to the need for rest.

She remained beside him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest until she was sure he was sleeping soundly. "I'll be right back," she whispered, pressing her lips to his forehead before tenderly covering him with the duvet.

* * *

Closing the door quietly behind her, Jane walked to the large window and pinched the bridge of her nose, swallowing back the tears she could feel behind her eyelids. She had to stay strong.

"Hey," she heard Patterson's gentle voice from behind her and felt a hand brush against her shoulder.

"How's Kurt?" Patterson asked, worry audible in her tone.

Jane released a shuddering breath before answering. "He's asleep. I just gave him a shot for the pain."

"I'm sorry," Patterson said quietly, her eyes carrying the same concern that Jane felt. She knew Patterson cared dearly for Kurt. "I know it must be hard for you to see him like that," her friend said sympathetically.

Jane tried to smile at Patterson, but the smile soon faltered. "Yeah…But at least he's alive." She wiped away the moisture in her eyes, as she remembered those long minutes of dread when she feared the team had died. Her joy at discovering them alive had turned to worry as soon as she had discovered Kurt was injured.

"Oh Jane,…" Patterson pulled her into a hug and she could no longer fight off the tears.

"I was so afraid I had lost you," Jane got the words out among the crying.

"But you didn't," came her friend's soft reply. "We're all still here."

After a minute Jane took a shuddering breath, pulling away from Patterson. "I'm sorry. It's just that…", she glanced at her feet and squeezed her hand into a fist, but her voice shook. "He's in agony and I can't do anything. I feel helpless!"

Patterson shook her head, squeezing Jane's arm. "Jane, you don't need to apologize. He's your husband. Of course this is hard on you."

She felt comforted by Patterson's kind words, meeting her eyes. "Thank you."

Patterson gave her a small smile. "Look, why don't you try to get some sleep in the loft? I'll keep an eye on Kurt, while I set up the laptop and wait for the others to come back."

Jane was about to argue that she couldn't leave him, but realized that she needed to sleep to be able to look after him. So, she nodded, smiling tiredly at her friend. "Okay, thanks."

* * *

Kurt let out a quiet grunt as the flashing pain behind his eyelids brought him back to wakefulness. Half-asleep, he had tried to turn on his side, but his broken ribs reminded him of their existence. Sinking back onto the pillows, he opened his eyes and blinked a few times. The ache in his ribs was duller now as he stayed still, but the burns gave him no respite despite the pills Jane had given him earlier. His upper arm and chest felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to his skin and rubbed off a few layers.

He reached over with his right hand, hissing as he pulled the medical tape and lifted the corner of the dressing carefully. The burns were angry and red. Some of the blisters on his skin were taut like tiny water balloons, others were weeping. He swore he could feel them pulsing with the beat of his heart.

He smoothed the tape back onto his skin and had just closed his eyes, when the door creaked quietly. He opened his eyes to see Jane enter the bedroom, carrying a glass of water.

The loving smile that she gave him absolutely floored him. God, he loved her so much.

"Hey, you're awake."

She set the glass on the bedside table and sat next to him on the edge of the bed.

He gave her a tired smile in return, reaching for her hand. "Yeah."

"How're you feeling?"

Despite his pain and tiredness, he hoped to reassure Jane. Looking at her more closely, he could see the strain the last few days had had on her. Her shoulders were squared and tense; lines of worry adorned her forehead and her eyes were red from the lack of sleep.

He gazed at her, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "I'm okay, Jane."

She gave a sad laugh. "No, you're not. I can tell you're still in pain."

Almost as if to prove her point, the searing sensation licked up his side like the fire that had burned him as he shifted, earning a half-suppressed gasp from him. He chuckled at the irony. "Well…better than a couple of days ago."

He saw the mix of concern and love cloud her eyes, as she pleaded, "Why won't you take the morphine? You're hurting."

He shook his head slightly. "No. I can manage with the pills."

Jane looked down at their joined hands, swallowing thickly. She kept her eyes locked on them, staying silent.

Now it was his turn to worry. "Jane…" he whispered tenderly.

When she looked up, her eyes were brimming with tears. "I thought I'd lost you…" she murmured.

"Jane, I'm –" he began, but quieted as she shook her head softly.

Her voice was quiet. "For those 20 minutes after the cabin exploded, I searched through the rubble. Minute-by-minute the fear in me grew; the desperation. I thought I was alone, that you had been taken from me."

Kurt wished he'd been healthy, so he could hug her and hold her close. Instead, he gave her hand a small squeeze to reassure her he was still here. "Jane, I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"I'm not blaming you, Kurt." She brought her hand up to his jaw, tracing it gingerly. "When I saw Patterson emerge, and she told me you were alive…" A tear ran down her cheek and she drew in a shuddering breath. "You were alive, but you were hurt. And you still are…"

Mirroring her, Kurt brought his hand to her cheek and wiped away her tears. "I know." He gave her a smile that he hoped would reassure her. "But I'm going to be okay. It might take a while, but I'll be okay. Thanks to you."

* * *

_Kurt looked around. He was inside a house, the Shaw house by the looks of it. What was he doing in Clearfield? Frowning, he looked at the bookshelves in the living room, the old comfy chair and the TV in the corner….everything looked exactly like it had 30 years ago, when Taylor had been taken._

"_Hello?" He listened for a reply, but no one answered him._

_The floorboards creaked comfortingly as he stepped into the hall. He'd missed that sound. It reminded him of the fun times spent together with Taylor as they played hide-and-seek indoors. He glanced outside the window. He could hear birds singing. Then, something else caught his attention._

_Kurt heard a familiar babble coming from somewhere. He turned on his heels and climbed up the stairs, glancing at the family photos lining the wall. So many memories…_

"_Bee?" He called out, as the sound of his daughter's voice became clearer. She was explaining something to someone._

"_Here, Daddy!"_

_Glancing into Taylor's room at the top of the stairs, he saw Bethany on the floor with a coloring book, a dozen crayons scattered around her. She was coloring something purple, her forehead creased in concentration._

_Kurt entered the room and laughed, kneeling next to his daughter. "Hey! What'cha doing?"_

"_Coloring!" Came the enthusiastic reply._

_He chuckled. "So I see. Shouldn't the penguin be black and white?"_

"_No! Silly Daddy…he's cold, that's why he's purple."_

_Kurt gave her an exaggerated frown, then smiled again. "Really?"_

"_Yeah!"_

_She reached out a chubby hand, offering him a yellow crayon. "Here. You can color his friend."_

"_Okay." Kurt flopped down onto the floor next to Bethany, starting to color the dog according to her instructions._

_He didn't know how much time had passed, but he felt a chill run down his spine. He had an unexplained feeling of pressure in his chest, and the room had changed. The bed and the furniture were gone. There were only the two of them and the coloring book._

_The room had gotten darker. That's when he heard the voice. _

"_Bethany…."_

_Kurt was puzzled. It couldn't be…_

_Then he heard it again, calling for his daughter. "Bethany…"_

_She had heard it too. "In here!"_

_Kurt felt cold chills running down his spine. He instinctively curled his hands into fists. "Dad?"_

"_That's Grandpa?" Bethany asked excitedly. "I wanna go see him!"_

_The voice kept calling for her, saying she should come and see him. _

"_No, sweetie! Don't go. Stay here with Daddy."_

_But Bethany had already taken a step towards the dark hallway beyond the door. Kurt tried to move but he seemed unable to move from where he was, unable to take her hand. "Don't you dare lay a hand on my daughter! Stay away from her!"_

_Bethany smiled at Kurt. "I'm gonna go see Grandpa!" She sing-songed happily._

"_Bee, please don't go," Kurt begged, trying to reach for his daughter's hand. She was too far away. _

_A tall, faceless figure appeared in the doorway, taking her hand._

"_Let go of her!" Kurt raged at the faceless figure, but his rage turned to desperation, as Bethany took its hand and turned away, waving back innocently at Kurt._

"_Don't go…Bee, please! Come back here! BETHANY!" She disappeared into the shadows and down the stairs, holding on to the figure's hand. "NOOO!"_

* * *

Jane had been dozing in the comfy chair in the corner of the room, when she was awakened by Kurt's restless movements. As she sat beside him on the bed, she saw the silent tears running down his face. He was arguing with someone but the next moment he seemed distraught, pleading.

She reached out gingerly, caressing his arm, but he flinched at her touch. "Kurt…Kurt, it's me." She tried again. "You're safe…" She kept brushing his arm, hoping to get through to him.

"NOOO!" Kurt reached out blindly, and she grabbed his hand.

At that, Kurt finally opened his eyes: his breathing ragged and his chest heaving.

Disoriented, he blinked, looking around. The terror in his eyes shattered Jane's heart.

"Jane?" He spoke her name, his voice sounding small and forlorn.

"I'm here, Kurt."

"Jane…" Her name came out as a whimper, as a cry of despair escaped him and he reached for his wife.

Mindful of his burns, she pulled him close into an embrace, stroking the nape of his neck tenderly as Kurt trembled, his breaths shuddering gasps against her shoulder. His anguish was tearing at her. Something had shaken Kurt to the core.

She pressed her lips against his temple. "Shhh…it was just a dream," she tried to soothe him, but it seemed her reassurances had little effect. She could barely make out his words, as they tumbled forth in a distraught whisper.

"Bethany…she just went to him. I tried to stop her, Jane…but she…Dad, he…". Despite his injuries, he pressed closer to her as the tears came.

As she held him, stroking his hair, she felt anger. Anger at Bill Weller for what he had done to his son. For years, Kurt had carried the guilt of what had happened to Taylor, how he had failed her. Somewhere deep inside him would always be that ten-year-old boy, blaming himself for something that was his father's fault. Jane felt like she would have wanted kill her father-in-law herself, if he wasn't already dead.

She kissed Kurt's hair. "Look at me," she asked softly.

His eyes were red, more tears trailing down his cheek as he met her eyes before averting them again. Jane reached out, caressing his cheek lightly with her fingers, hoping to convey her love for him as she wiped away his tears. He looked so vulnerable. She had never seen him like this. The forlorn look in his eyes burned into her brain.

She could feel the tears brimming her own eyes as she spoke. "Kurt...your Dad can't hurt anyone anymore." She traced his jaw with a gentle touch, her voice low and loving as she reassured him. "Bethany's safe with Allie, and you will see her again. I promise." Internally Jane was struggling, hating it that she couldn't tell him when that reunion would be. She knew Kurt missed his daughter terribly.

Bringing her hand to his forehead, she felt the worry settle in firmly again as she took in the heat radiating off his skin. "But right now, you need to rest, okay?"

Kurt didn't protest as she helped him back onto the pillows, just nodded and closed his eyes. "I think you're running a fever. I'll go get you something that will hopefully keep it down."


	3. Chapter 3

Here we go, the final chapter 😊. This one isn't _quite_ as angsty as the previous chapter.

Again, just a fan having fun, not making any money. All rights belong to MG & co.

* * *

Jane was broken out of her thoughts by a sudden jerk of Kurt's arm. He was moving restlessly on the bed again, but still asleep. He didn't appear to be as agitated as he was two days before when he had dreamt of Bethany and Bill, but Jane still worried, remembering how terrified the nightmare had left him. She got up from the chair, and sat on the edge of the mattress beside her husband. She felt her own exhaustion sit on her shoulders, sucking the last of her energy. But she had to keep pushing, Kurt needed her.

She placed her hand on his forehead, the continuing fever making her frown with worry. His temperature was climbing: the medication didn't seem to be working. His voice rose in his sleep, sounding like he was arguing with someone but she couldn't make out the words.

She ran her hand through his hair, hoping to calm him. "Everything's okay, Kurt. It's okay." Her tender touches and murmured assurances gradually soothed his anxiety, and he fell back into a deep sleep. She stayed where she was, holding his hand as she watched his chest rise and fall as he slept. His continuing fever alarmed her. He desperately needed antibiotics, but Ice Cream had said this safehouse was the last favor he would do for them.

"Oh, Kurt," she whispered to his sleeping form, the anxiety sitting firmly in the pit of her stomach as she caressed his face. His beard had grown longer, more of a proper bread now than the scruff he normally had. It felt different under her touch, foreign almost. She made a mental note to ask him if he wanted her to help him shave when he was more lucid again. But that would have to wait.

With a sad sigh, she reached for the washcloth on the bedside table, dipping it in a bowl of water next to it before wringing it out. Cautious of the burns on his shoulder, she dabbed his neck and face with the cool cloth, hoping to give him some relief. Kurt flinched, opening his eyes groggily as she put it on his forehead.

"Jane?" He grunted, barely lucid.

"Shhh," she shushed him. "Rest." Clearly too tired to speak, a trace of a smile touched his lips as he recognized her voice and closed his eyes again.

Hours passed as she kept her vigil beside her husband, holding his larger hand in hers, tracing his knuckles tenderly as she murmured endearments into his ear, willing for him to fight on. But now he had gone still, his entire body burning up. His breathing was more rapid, shallower. He was fading.

Jane turned her eyes down, her vision blurring from tears as she looked at the wooden floor. She could no longer contain the hurt and the fear of losing Kurt, and whimpered as the tears came. Her shoulders shook as she cried quietly. In addition to the pain and fear she felt guilt. Guilt for the things she had said and done as Remi, how she had manipulated him. Kurt had forgiven her, as he always did, but still she could feel the guilt gnawing at her.

She swallowed thickly, reaching out to stroke his hair. For a moment she simply ran her hand through his hair. With the tears still tracing down her cheeks she leaned closer, almost pressing her lips to his ear as she whispered, "I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm so sorry."

Jane didn't know how much time had passed, when she heard a quiet knock on the door. Patterson opened the door and stepped inside cautiously, making eye contact with her.

"How is he?" She asked softly, glancing at Kurt's still form on the bed.

With Patterson's gentle question, the tears blurred Jane's vision again and her voice shook, despite her best efforts.

"The medication isn't working…the fever won't go down and he's getting weaker." She gave Kurt a loving look, before leaning her forehead against her palm and staring at the floor. "He needs antibiotics, Patterson, or he will die. But we can't risk taking him to a hospital: Madeline's goons or the CIA will get him, and I can't let that happen." She gave Patterson a desperate glance before leaning against her palm again. "And you heard Ice Cream. He said this safehouse was the last thing he'd help us with." Her voice was even quieter, defeated almost, with her next words. "Even if he'd agree to help us, how would we repay him? Our assets were frozen, and we've almost used what we had."

"We still might have a way," her friend replied.

"What?" Jane looked up, sniffling.

"I still have an account that they haven't found, probably because Rich insisted on creating it through his "_contacts", _Patterson said, making air quotes. "I thought he was crazy, but I didn't tell him no."

Jane felt a faint glimmer of hope.

"So, with some of that money, I might be able to persuade Ice Cream to get Kurt the antibiotics and medical assistance he needs."

"You'd do that?" Jane looked at Patterson, knowing her friend could see the desperation in her eyes.

She nodded, smiling faintly. "Of course. We're family."

Jane got up, pulling Patterson into a fierce hug. "Thank you!" She gave a shaky whisper.

* * *

Kurt moaned tiredly, thinking he heard Patterson's voice from somewhere, like through a fog._ Where's Jane?_ He tried to open his eyes, but it felt like a massive effort. He moved his hand slightly, now definitely recognizing his friend's voice, as she grabbed his hand briefly and said something unintelligible to him before leaving.

It was as if lead weights were pressing down on his eyes, but he slowly forced them open. He blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings. He felt exhausted, fuzzy. He could feel the thrumming ache of the burns, but it wasn't as intense as before. He peered down at his chest, and noticed fresh dressings covering the burns. Looking more closely, he realized he had an IV attached to his hand, the line leading to a bag of clear liquid hanging from the headboard. "_What the hell…?" _He frowned. They didn't have access to medical equipment like this. _"Where the hell am I?"_ Something was wrong, he needed to get out of here. He sat up, groaning as a bout of nausea hit him, right at the same moment his ribs protested at the too-sudden movement.

He was just about to reach for the IV catheter, when he saw Jane enter the room and his peripheral vision.

"Hey, you're awa–" the soft greeting died on her lips and she rushed to him, grabbing his hand lightly. "No, Kurt," she shook her head, catching his eye, "don't touch it."

"Jane? What is this? What happened?" He rasped, noticing how parched he was as, he fought to quell the nausea.

"You're in no condition to get up." She grabbed his arm and good shoulder, her tone calming. "Come on, lie down," she cajoled as she guided him back down onto the pillows.

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment and waited for the queasiness to pass.

"Here." He felt her press a glass to his lips gently, as she helped him drink. "Just a sip. We don't want you to throw up."

Even the small amount of water helped, the coolness feeling wonderful in his throat.

Feeling marginally better, he opened his eyes a crack so that he could see Jane. Leaning back against the pillows again, he noticed how drained and exhausted he was.

"What happened?" He tried again, unable to mask the anxiety he felt.

Jane's face grew serious again, as she reached out to stroke his cheek. He leaned into the comforting, familiar touch, waiting for her to speak.

"You really gave us a scare," she said softly. "Your burns got infected, and you developed a high fever." She went on, "If it hadn't been for Patterson's secret account, we might have lost you."

Kurt reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. He knew that feeling, the fear and anguish reflected in his wife's eyes. He had been in her shoes barely a month before. "Jane…"

She drew a shuddering breath. "It's okay, now. Patterson was able to use the money to get a doctor to see you, that's why you have the IV." She glanced at the IV bag before turning her attention back to him. "You were unconscious, and dehydrated from the fever and the burns, so the IV was the best way to keep you hydrated and start the antibiotics."

"I don't remember any of it."

"That's not surprising. You've been asleep for over a day, since the antibiotics started working and your fever broke. But now that you're better, we can remove the IV, at least." Jane's tone was reassuring. She gazed at him lovingly, running her hand through his hair in a soothing manner. "How do you feel now?"

"Exhausted. My body feels like I've run a marathon." He closed his eyes, grunting as he shifted into a more comfortable position.

"You need to take it slow. It's going to take a while to get your strength back. But I have something that I've been keeping safe for you. Hold on."

He heard her get up and walk to a dresser by the wall, rummaging in one of the drawers.

She sat back beside him, holding a sooty, slightly frayed paper in her hand.

It looked vaguely familiar to him, but in his tired mind he couldn't place it, until she pressed it into his hand. "Here. I've been holding onto that for you," Jane whispered lovingly.

He opened the paper with shaking hands, moisture in his eyes. It was Bethany's drawing. The one that he had managed to snatch from his locker as they left the NYO to avoid capture.

He gazed at Jane in gratitude. She must have seen the unspoken question in his eyes, since she spoke in a low, tender tone.

"I found that in the rubble of the cabin, when I searched for you. I was afraid it would be the only thing of you that I'd find." Jane leaned in to give him a soft, lingering kiss. She stayed where she was, her breath warming his cheek. "With all that happened, I forgot I had it. But now it's where it belongs."

"Thank you."

She stayed close to him for a little while, both of them just enjoying the moment. Finally, she sat up, observing him for a second. "I know you're tired, but do you think you could try and eat something?"

He glanced at the ceiling, realizing he did feel a bit hungry. Adjusting his position, he caught a glimpse of Patterson through the doorway. She was biting into a slice of pizza. It had been a couple of weeks since he'd last had pizza, the pizzas in their little hostage-taking stunt having eluded him. He nodded at Patterson right as she turned towards him, and called out to her gruffly "Is there any more where that came from?"

Jane merely chuckled in reply.


End file.
